Death of a Savior, Birth of a Killer
by Paragons0sky
Summary: After the death of her son, Emma finds it hard to cope. When darkness starts to seep into her heart, she finds it even harder to keep her anger under control. Evil!Emma Evil!Regal swanqueen M for later possibly. and content.
1. prologue

This will be my only author's note so read up it's important.

Based off a prompt and gif set by lisqueen on tumblr. I was given permission to expand on it and make it a story.

Character (henry) death.

Spoilers up to 3x08 think lovely thoughts. After that I pick and choose what to include and not. They get back to storybrooke the same way, just with Henry dying and unable to save him.

I COMPLETELY FORGO ZELENA AND FROZEN PLOT LINES.

Evil!Regal, Evil!Emma

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the plot idea. =P

I'll be posting (trying for) once a week. Possibly on Mondays or Tuesdays.

Prologue

Her magic bubbled deep within her. The magic she never knew she had until it was needed, until it practically sprouted from her fingertips to save Storybrooke. She felt it—the change—the moment the black casket lowered into the ground as her son was swallowed whole by the Earth.

The change was dark and came from a place so deep within her that she had no doubt the darkness touched her to her very soul.

Evil is not born, it is made.

The fingers of her right hand pressed into her eyebrow as she willed the pain to stop, for the tears to stop. But it seemed the rivers down her cheeks were never ending. And her pain unyielding.

Her heart ached for her lost son.

It was without a doubt a beautiful ceremony, but she hurt too much to pay any attention to what her mother had arranged. Carnations and roses permeated the air with a sickly sweet smell and it took everything in her not to tear into every last one of them. The chaos the act would bring…sweet, sweet chaos.

She felt the chaos would bring her piece. No amount of good can muffle her child being stolen from her.

She was standing in front of the hole her son would forever rest in. There was a line of fairytale characters, turned real, waiting to give their condolences. She didn't remember standing.

If she didn't stop rubbing she'd lose an eyebrow.

She was furious with them. Every one of them. They didn't do anything. They just watched as Henry died. They didn't do anything. Henry was gone forever.

They didn't do anything.

They would suffer.

A hand pulled her from her thoughts and her incessant rubbing at an eyebrow. "Emma dear, you must play the part." A breath of a whisper tickled her ear. Regina squeezed her hand before letting go to accept the hand of another 'grieving' fairytale story.

Emma's mind reeled at the thought of playing a part. It was not who she was. She never hid behind a mask. But as hands reached out and patted her one by one, her mask fell into place.

At least one person understood.


	2. Ch 1

Chapter 1 Of Masks and Dispositions

Emma watched on as Regina shooed everyone out of her house at promptly 7:45. The reception after the viewing was a little too much for Emma to handle and she was surprised that Regina had caught on. She hadn't realized the regal woman was even watching her what with all the brunette's attention constantly being pulled elsewhere, like Snow White touching everything she could get her hands on or Rumple situating himself in the corner of the room trying to not be seen.

"Vultures. They're all a bunch of grimy, undisciplined vultures." Regina huffed as she closed the door on the last of the guests. Emma barely uttered a sound even though she agreed wholeheartedly. "Shall I pour us some cider then?" She offered coming around to the parlor, where the reception was held, and to Emma.

"Got anything stronger?" Emma wavered. For a moment, the two caught eyes and it was not lost on them the significance of her statement. Emma winced at the pain she caused to flash across the brunette's face. She wasn't aiming to hurt the woman, she just wasn't thinking.

Regina seemed to think as much as she gave a small half-smile-half-grimace before heading to the kitchen. Their son had just been buried, they were both bound to be a little drained. "I apologize for giving the impression I was asking, Sheriff. Now follow." Two fingers motioned for Emma to oblige.

And so she did.

Emma felt heavy on her feet as she managed to stand for the first time in 2 hours. She gripped the bottom of her shirt as she trudged along behind the more composed woman.

She felt out of place and awkward as they walked slowly towards the destination Emma had yet to uncover. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt in nervousness and to keep them from reaching out. She didn't want to touch anything in fear of breaking it—whatever 'it' was.

She breaks everything she touches.

They settled in Regina's home office after bypassing several rooms that were filled with too many memories of their son. Emma found herself seating herself in the most uncomfortable chair she'd had the pleasure of sitting in. Her back was ramrod straight in reluctance to lean back in her discomfort. Her left hand drumming its fingers on her knee while her right found its fingers across her eyebrow.

"Miss Swan, I'd prefer if you wouldn't fidget." Regina admonished before settling herself at her liquor tray to pour the pair their drinks.

Emma quickly dropped her hand and somehow found a way to sit up even straighter than before. "Your chair sucks, Regina." She commented as she lightly slapped at the armrest in disdain.

Regina turned from her liquor tray and shot a glare towards the blonde. "Then move if it doesn't meet your standards, Princess." The sentence was said offhandedly and the words stale with no true malice towards the blonde. It still reminded Emma of why this was so awkward to be sitting here with Regina.

A sharp inhale of breath was all Emma could return with a sharp shake of her head. She was fine. She was fine.

She was fine.

Regina had never called her Princess before. She didn't particularly like the new nickname. It was worse than Savior, at least in her opinion. She wasn't either of those things. But in reality she was both of those things—at least to the people of Storybrooke. Who so happened to be from another realm and reality. Emma internally laughed at that. So not quite in reality…especially not after the death of her son.

No the Savior they knew—well she was dead.

Emma blinked her confusion at a hand grabbing at her own. "Really dear, you're going to rub yourself raw at this rate." Regina said as she easily slipped the tumbler of cider into Emma's hand before sitting to the right of her in a similarly made chair.

The look of discomfort did not go unnoticed by Emma. But she chose wisely not to comment.

They sat in silence for a time sipping at their drinks and wondering why or how this could have happened and possibly where they were supposed to go from here.

"This doesn't change anything, Regina." The blonde finally spoke, breaking 10 minutes worth of silence. The brunette only arched a brow in response not quite understanding what Emma was getting at. "We can sit here, and drink, and mope, and stare at nothing, and talk about everything, but it still changes nothing. He's still gone. He's still dead. And I can't forget that." Emma set her tumbler on Regina's desk. On a coaster, Regina noticed with slight astonishment.

"No one is asking you to forget anything. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"Maybe I want to forget." Emma mumbled more to herself.

"Don't lie to yourself." Regina scoffed having heard the mumble. "You're so much better than that? So much better than me."

"Am I? Or is that just how you see me, better than you? Isn't that how everyone sees me? Emma 'Charming' Swan, the Savior to come save the town and take them all back to the promise land after defeating the Evil Queen. So good. So pure. So perfect in every way possible. Why on Earth would she need to lie to herself? Why on Earth would she have anything in common with the Evil Queen? We're one in the same, Regina. Both royally fucked up from our pasts and our families.

"Oh but the savior has the family of all families. Her mom is fucking Snow White, her dad Prince-fucking-Charming, and then her son just so happens to get adopted by her ex-step-grandmother who is coincidently is the fucking Evil Queen. My family is a fucking fairytale.

"You have got to be shitting yourself if you don't think I've had to lie myself into believing that everything was okay. That being left and forgotten by fairytales was all right. It's not. And my son had to die for me to realize all the lies I allowed myself to believe." Emma gasped a breath, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I couldn't protect him and be the savior at the same time. He died. I tried to be something I'm not. I tried to atone for not being the daughter they want me to be and he died. I failed him, it's my fault." Emma's throat was rough and gritty with emotion. Tears had yet to fall but her blurred vision threatened Emma with the possibility.

Emma sniffed trying to reign in her tears. She looked to Regina as if to draw strength. The brunette however sat coldly with her hands in a death grip around the tumbler in her lap and a lone tear rolling down her cheek. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was stuttered and it took everything in Emma not to comfort her.

"I'm sorry."

"You have no reason to be sorry, Emma." Regina spoke quietly. It was the first time Emma had ever heard her speak so softly. "It's not your fault."

"It's someone's fault. It has to be."

"It's not your fault." In that moment Emma knew Regina wasn't just talking about her. She thought maybe she was also trying to convince herself of the fact that maybe neither of them were actually at fault here.

And so, Emma took the tumbler from Regina's hands to force eye contact with the woman she shared her son with for a little over a year. She whispered in the softest voice she could manage but firm enough to still get her point across "It's not your fault."

#

She's not very sure how it happened, but after that night two weeks ago Regina and Emma had managed to meet up once a day just to remind each other that neither of them were at fault. To Emma the meetings were her crutch and saving grace. Her temper was getting shorter and her anger seemed to be a ball of white-hot flames deep in her belly. Her dreams had turned to nightmares, the bags under her eyes telling the tale more boldly than she ever could with words.

Regina, though, Regina felt stir-crazy as her life and routine morphed into a consistent regimen of normalcy. Nothing changed. Only the meetings with Emma everyday were keeping her out of a rut she had found herself in. But those few moments with Emma always sparked something inside her.

It felt like she could finally breathe for the first time at those times.

It felt like reprieve.

It felt like magic. She had forgotten what magic could feel like when pure. There was no anger or resentment, just calm, mutual understanding. That's not to say Regina didn't feel the anger wafting off the Savior in plumes of wrath. Every day it seemed to grow darker and burrow deeper inside the woman. She knew Emma was trying to not let it take a hold of her, but Regina knew, she'd been there before, she knew that it was only a matter of time before Emma lost control.

The darker side of herself purred at the thought.

She wasn't blind to the frightened looks she received every time she stepped out of her home. They were all afraid of her. They were scared that she would revert back to the Evil Queen they sorely remember.

And they had every right to be afraid.

But Regina was nothing if not patient. She'd always been about the long game. She would play this smart. Play it slow. There was no rush and her fury just seemed to build with each passing day.

But she could use that. Magic was all about emotion and she'd always favored anger.

There were reasons for her patience, though. She felt that, maybe, this time around she wouldn't have to do it alone. Revenge is a lonely game in the end when others are far too frightened of you.

This time around she would get it right. This time around she would ruthless and not hesitate. This time around…she would have Emma Swan at her side.

#

Emma sat in a booth at Granny's dinner staring out the window at nothing in particular. Her thoughts swarmed inside her mind with ideas and scenarios of how things could have been different. Of how Henry could still be alive. She could have done things differently. She could have been smarter. She should have trusted Regina more.

Untouched hot chocolate sat on the table in front of her.

She wasn't back at work yet. The sheriff position falling onto David in her absence. She didn't feel up to being any form of savior-type personality for these fairytale characters.

Her eyes drifted to the condensation on the glass. The door to Granny's jingled open and slammed unnecessarily closed and she watched as a droplet ran down the pane rolling faster and faster as it chained itself onto smaller, stationary droplets. The drop became fatter, impregnated with the small droplets, as it rolled down the pane in its decent. It looked about to burst, and Emma watched entranced as the droplet sped to its end slapping onto the windowsill and exploding to a mere puddle.

"Emma…"

Her name pulled her from the window and her thoughts. It was said softly and as Emma looked up to find Mary Margaret standing over her, the mask that took her no time at all to perfect, fell into place. "Mary Margaret."

"How are you?" The schoolteacher questioned. Emma just quirked an eyebrow at the woman before turning to stare back out the window. "Well do you mind if I sit?"

"Not like it would matter." Emma mumbled. Mary Margaret, seemingly not having heard her remark, swiftly sat across from Emma. The blonde groaned in annoyance but allowed it.

She just wanted to be alone.

As the schoolteacher sat across from her, Emma, from the corner of her eye, noticed her hands start tearing at a napkin. "About what I said at Echo cave…"

"I really don't care what you do. And this really isn't the time for you to be talking to me about children." Emma grunted in annoyance at her mother. She couldn't believe she was bringing this up now.

"I just wanted you to know that it's not about replacing you. Nothing could replace you." Mary Margaret reached across the table trying to set her hand atop on of Emma's. The blonde however, quickly pulled her hands back and set them under the table in her lap.

"Emma, I'm worried about you…" The former Queen hesitantly began. "I know what it's like to lose a child—"

Emma gave a sharp raucous laugh effectively halting her mother's diatribe before it even began. Emma wasn't one to be lectured. She also knew for a fact that her mother knew nothing of what she felt. "Don't kid yourself, Snow White. You have no idea what I feel."

"I lost my chance of being a mother with you." She attempted to argue and Emma felt the constant ball of white-hot anger inside of her flare in irritation. Her 'mother' was a hypocrite.

"You were literally just talking about me being your daughter and not wanting this new baby to 'replace' me. Now you're saying you weren't ever actually my mother. You know what? Take you hypocrisy and go. YOU chose to put me in a damn tree because of a prophecy. You chose to not be my mom. My son has DIED, Mary Margaret. I didn't choose that." Pity-filled eyes bore into her own and Emma had had enough. "You can leave now. I don't want to talk right now."

"You need to talk to someone."

"And you need to mind your own damn business. Even if I do end up talking to someone, it definitely won't be you, count on that."

"Emma—"

"Just go!" Emma gripped at the hem of her shirt. Her anger starting to get the better of her. She glared at Mary Margaret as she got up and left the table and diner altogether. It was a slight relief that Mary Margaret was gone, but her anger still boiled inside her.

She was so tired of anger.

Emma sighed softly still annoyed and angry. Her thoughts were now on the dream of a damn child not even brought into existence yet. She felt blinding hate for this make-believe baby. Not in its potential existence, but in the mocking way of how they are a possibility for the future and yet her own son is not and will never be again. A spike of anger filled her being.

She shook her head trying to clear her mind. She needed to control herself. She needed control. Her eyes drifted and focused on her surroundings trying to drown out her thoughts.

She saw Ruby and Granny behind the bar as usual. It wasn't very crowded right now. She saw Happy and Dopey munching on pretzels and croissants at the far end of the diner and Belle, the new librarian, reading with a cup of tea in front of her.

That prompted Emma to look down at her own drink.

Her hot cocoa was ice cold, untouched in front of her. The cinnamon topping having eaten through the now dissolved whipped cream and clumped at the surface of the chocolate drink. The drink looked sickly with the wisps of white from whipped cream and the clumps of dark spice littering the top.

Her face contorted in disgust at her drink and without thought shoved it off the edge of her table.

Immediately 3 things happened.

Belle looked up from her book with concern written on her face. She had witnessed the rather charged discussion Emma had had with May Margaret. While she had wanted to help the charming family, she knew that it would only work itself out if others decided not to be nosy.

Ruby jumped to start the cleaning almost before the mug had even hit the ground while Granny screamed at Emma to "get the hell out of my diner until you learn to control yourself.'

But all Emma could think about was the relief she felt from seeing the shattered remains of the mug on the floor and the mess she had made.

A/N I know it's early but I finished it sooner than I thought. Don't expect next chapter until Nov10 ish


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